


As My Thoughts Drift Into the Unclean

by novak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novak/pseuds/novak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In moments of shocking lucidity, where his veins lack alcohol and his heart lacks an ache, Dean Winchester is subject to thoughts he should not be thinking. They’re possibly condemning, definitely inappropriate, but Dean can’t help but press back against the headboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As My Thoughts Drift Into the Unclean

In moments of shocking lucidity, where his veins lack alcohol and his heart lacks an ache, Dean Winchester is subject to thoughts he should not be thinking. They’re possibly condemning, definitely inappropriate, but Dean can’t help but press back against the headboard, heels digging into the mattress. He grinds the heel of his palm into his crotch, where blood is rushing and filling, and cock twitching to life with thoughts of an all-powerful angel on its knees for him.  
Castiel, with his soft, plush mouth that slackens just so when he’s thinking. With the electric, sunken eyes that bore into the substance of his soul whenever they’re in close proximity.

Dean’s jaw loosens and his mouth falls open, tongue swiping out across his plump, already bitten-red lower lip and leaving glistening saliva in its wake. He runs a fingertip thoughtfully around the button of his jeans, tracing the circle of it before sliding it free. He slides the zip down, noisy in the silence of the empty hotel room, and he pretends that it’s Cas.  
He pretends that it’s Cas’ hand sliding up under the worn, dirty cotton of his t-shirt, finding a pebbled nipple and squeezing hard enough to make him whine through his teeth. He wonders, quite often, what Castiel would be like in bed; would he be eager? Soft, slow? He’s a virgin, after all; an inexperienced angel who lacks knowledge of the world his own father birthed.

Dean’s dick jumps beneath his hand as he pulls it free of his briefs, thoughts of a debauched Castiel flooding through his mind faster than he thought possible. Long, white thighs spread wide. Dean’s dirty fingers trailing across the skin, through the wiry hair, leaving red marks that will fade to bruises. Claiming him. Legs splayed, he fists his cock, thrusts some into his fist before he settles into a rhythm, palm pulling whatever precome it gathers down the length of him. His breathing is getting louder.

He thinks of Cas arching up against him as he fucks his body open, ruins him for anybody else. He wonders how it would feel to have Cas’ mouth open and panting against his neck, or perhaps his jaw, all damp breath and shaky moans. He’s getting frantic now, because it could be real, it could be perfectly real, and his hips start rocking up to force his cock through his tight fist. He fantasises that it’s Castiel’s hand wrapped around him, long fingers vice-like and demanding, urging him on like a horse galloping towards the finish line.

Dean comes breathlessly, his heart thundering in his chest, as the familiar sound of fluttering wings floods through the room like a cool breeze. “Hello, Dean.”

He smiles.


End file.
